


One Bed

by Miniatures



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, Pre-Movie(s), Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:49:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9329954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miniatures/pseuds/Miniatures
Summary: Chirrut and Baze stop at an inn, and their room only has one bed. Goddammit.





	

“There you go,” the innkeeper says, unlocking the small door. “For one night.”

Baze steps over the threshold after her. The room is tiny but snug—a piece of typical Jedhan architecture, its sanded stone walls draped with faded yet colourful tapestries to keep out the cold. An empty fire pit and grate sits in the middle of the room, rimmed by a curved sofa, and against the far wall—

Oh no.

“I… trust everything is in order, Mr. Malbus?” The innkeeper wrings her hands, clearly unnerved by the sudden flattening of Baze’s expression.

He glances down at her, forces a taut smile. “Yes, thank you.”

She beams, her wrinkled brown face squishing happily. “Then I’ll leave you be. We start serving supper in the dining hall in half an hour, but of course you and Mr. Îmwe are welcome to eat at your leisure.”

She leaves. Baze stays where he is, staring at the single bed.

It looks as cozy as the rest of the room; the sheets are clean and tucked, the mattress looks plump, and it’s certainly wide enough for the both of them to share, but—well. On Jedha, most establishments assume that he and Chirrut sleep separately, and accommodate them accordingly. He supposes he should be charmed at the forward thinking (Force knows he doesn’t mind, how could he _mind_ ), but more likely this was one of the inn’s last vacancies.

Either way, he dreads Chirrut’s reaction.

 

 

His companion is still sipping his caf in the dining hall, conversing with a couple of chatty Bothans they’d met on their way in. Baze slips in beside Chirrut, placing one hand on his shoulder so Chirrut knows it’s him. Such a gesture is more of a formality between them—Baze was the first person Chirrut learned to recognize by step and aura when he went blind, simply because they spent so much time together. 

Dinner is a pleasant affair. The Bothans are kind, and their conversation amusing. But before long, Baze begins to slip into what Chirrut calls his _evening grump_ : he doesn’t tire of the Bothans’ company, he simply tires of company in general. Their room upstairs—and their _single bed_ , all the gods help him—is calling to him.

Chirrut must sense the deepening grump, because he excuses himself and asks Baze to show him to their room. He claims he’s weary from travelling, but Baze knows it’s for his benefit as sure as he knows NaJedha’s always on the horizon.

They enter the room, and the door clicks shut behind them, and Chirrut chuckles.

“There’s only one bed, isn’t there?”

Baze tenses. _Here we go_. “You and that damn echo-box,” he mutters, busying himself with removing his outerwear. “I keep forgetting you have it.”

“Is it the last room?” Chirrut makes his way to the bed as he talks. “Or did someone assume we’re lovers again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hm. Either way, should be comfortable.”

Baze finishes undressing. He’s down to a simple shift and soft trousers, and resolves to make up a fire. Both he and Chirrut always sleep better when they’re warm, after all, he thinks as he turns about, and—

Chirrut has stripped down to his underpants, and is lying stretched out on the bed, utterly and unselfconsciously on display.

Baze gulps. Chirrut grins at the sound.

“What?” His voice is dripping with faux innocence. “If we’re to share a bed, you’d better get used to it. I don’t like to sleep in too many clothes.”

“Chirrut…”

“The innkeeper seems to think we’ll be doing more than just _sleeping_ , too. Do you think we ought to shake the bed a little? Just to keep up appearances?”

“ _Chirrut_ , by all that’s holy—”

“Do I make you nervous, Baze?” Chirrut arches his back, stretching his arms out before settling back down with an exaggerated grunt. “Do I _tempt_ you?”

Baze fixes his attentions on the fire pit, keeping one hand clenched tight to redirect unwanted bloodflow from his crotch. He refuses to be drawn in to Chirrut’s antics.

 

 

Once the fire’s down to embers and the room is toasty, he gets up to join Chirrut in bed.

“Move over,” he says gruffly, coming to the edge of the mattress.

Chirrut does as he’s asked, rolling so that his back’s pressed against the wall. Baze slides under the blanket, turning away from Chirrut and fixing his eyes on the dim light of the fire.

Behind him, he feels Chirrut’s breath on his shoulder, and he tries not to shiver.

Then, without warning, Chirrut snakes an arm around his middle and draws himself flush against Baze’s back.

“You know I’m only teasing,” he says quietly.

Baze rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “We’ve been married twelve years,” he says. “I’d just assumed the joke would’ve gotten old by now.”

**Author's Note:**

> FOOLED U
> 
> Or did I? I tried, and that's what matters.
> 
> Inspired by the gloriousness that is [this](http://thebathsofallthewesternstars.tumblr.com/post/154879971121/chirrut-oh-no-theres-onlyone-bed-baze) tumblr post by thebathsofallthewesternstars


End file.
